TESTIMONY TIME!MARGARET PEACOCKof Lancing, West SussexI had to leave my parents home in a hurry (long story but not my doing) and I eventually found a bedsit to live in. It was horrid and nasty and I didn't look after it or myself. I was far from God. My mother came to visit and told me that I either had to clear it up or come back home. Going back home was not an option and neither was cleaning up at the time. To appease her in some way I agreed to go to the meeting at The Salvation Army that Sunday evening, mainly because I felt sorry for her. The sermon was about a garden of weeds that choked all the flowers that had once grown there. It spoke to me. It became clear that I had allowed my garden of life to become a garden of weeds. I resolved there and then to clean up my life and begin to straighten things out. I never returned home but I got my flat in order and began to grow beautiful flowers in my heart and work hard to keep out the weeds. That is about it. Ever since I have worked hard to keep the weeds down and let the flowers growNAOMI

MY JOURNEY: FROM TRUST TO TRUTH(by the abused child of Christian parents)(Naomi Grace*)

(*Nom de plume)

WHAT IS LOVE?

What is love?The gentle arms of a hug when I am frightened,Or the forced experience demanded of me in a world of abuse?Is it the warm, safe feeling from a favourite grandparent,Or the cold, vicious retaliation when I am not as good as I should be?Is love what happens when I achieve something, however small,Or is it the punishment received when I didn’t do as well as expected?Daddy loved me-He showed me he did - That’s what he said he was doingHe gave me presents and laughed a lot on holidayAnd hurt me sometimes - but it was because he loved meHe said so!I was taught to believe my parents:He said so - I believed him.Daddy told me to be a good girlAnd if I loved him enough, I wouldn’t get hurt.Maybe I was a bad girl, because he still hurt, even when I thought Iwas loving him enough.Daddy told me I was specialDaddy told me we had a special secret and not to tell.Daddy loved meWas that love? What is love?I need someone to show me –Someone I can trust to lead me to the truth.

I was asked to think about writing something of my experiencewith a two-fold purpose and hope: Firstly, that it may be of helpto someone who may be going through a similar situation and,secondly, that it may also help me to come to terms with myown circumstances.

I was brought up in a Christian family, but this was also a veryabusive situation. Over thirty years on from the initial abuse, Istill find much of it difficult to handle and clam up at the thoughtof having to talk about it. I have been told that this is a ‘normal’reaction - but I often don’t even feel that I know what ‘normal’ is.And I am not entirely sure I know what love is. I know intellectuallywhat it is supposed to be, but the experiences of so-called ‘love’ thatI had when I was growing up always ended in hurt, mistrust andinsecurity - all the things that love is not.

Sometimes I feel that I am all alone in a type of “living hell” and yearnfor a way out. However, I know that I am not alone. There are otherpeople in the same boat; there are people who are willing to help. I wastold recently that there are around “6,631,174,475 people living in theworld…Not every one of them would want to help or could help, butthousands would.” So, I believe that somewhere, somehow, someoneis going to help me get through this.

The Early Years“Be a good girl!” “It’s our little secret.” “Don’t tell – You’ll be taken away.”…These little phrases, and more, were to be the foundations on which Iwas to build the early years of my life. And, even now, they are provingdifficult to change. How does one change the foundations of a buildingwithout destroying the building itself? In the same way, how do I changethe beliefs, feelings and memories which have been with me from childhoodwithout pulling my whole life and being apart?

I was born over thirty years ago into a Christian family and my father was achurch minister at that time and my mother was also very involved in hischurch activities. I had two younger brothers and we had the samerelationship as most siblings. We had our little arguments, but not toomany of the “nuclear fall-out” fights. I remember being really happyaround them and we loved our annual holidays with our grandparents,to whom we were very close.

However, there was something which wasn’t quite as it seemed withinthe family home. I don’t remember exactly when the abuse on my father’spart began, but I do recollect the house in which we lived at the time. Wemoved to that house when I was two years old. Dad was fun much of thetime, but there was just as much time when he really frightened me. Itwas like having two separate fathers. At our church, he was everyone’sfavourite pastor. At home, he was sometimes my ‘favourite daddy’ but,more often than not, he was my ‘scary daddy’.

As kids, we didn’t miss out on the material things that our friends had,and we never went without food, clothes, toys, and goodies, even ifmy father didn’t have the best paid job in the world. The one thing Idid miss out on, however, was my childhood and the innocence thatcomes with it - the type of childhood that ‘normal’ children have.

At that age I should never have known about sexual experiences andfeelings, even if I didn’t understand them fully. I certainly should nothave known about the things in which I was being made to participate.

I was always being told that I was “Daddy’s special girl” and that heneeded to show me how much he loved me. He also used to say that,if he was hurting me, then it was because I didn’t love him enough.

He would take every opportunity he could to “give his special cuddles”,whether it was bath time, bed time, out in the garden or in one ofthose little photo booths… There was nowhere I could go to escapefrom him - After all, he was supposed to look after me and protectme, so he wasn’t going to let me out of his sight, was he?

During my father’s years as a minister, we seemed to move houserather a lot. Each time I would hope and dream that things wouldbe different and that Dad would suddenly become my “favourite daddy”permanently. Nothing changed! But then, at least, things couldn’tget any worse - or could they?

How wrong we are sometimes! In the next house (where I lived fromthe ages of five to eight.), I had the additional horror of abuse from ababy-sitter couple. Obviously, this aroused a huge amount of confusion.Daddy did it because he loved me, but why were they doing it?

I used to dread them coming, and would try and make mum stay bysaying that I didn’t feel well - She never stayed. Mum always used toput us to bed so we would already be there when they arrived. Iwould hear the floorboards creak, then the door open, and would thenknow that it was all going to start.

I’m not sure whether this situation was worse than that with myfather, or not. With hindsight some of the things I had to do in orderto be classed as a ‘good girl’ were certainly worse. However, at thetime, I was drowning in so much confusion that this thought processwould have been non-existent. And the fact that I believe there wassome sort of camera in the room certainly fills me with horror now.The abuse here was from both man and wife; sometimes I was onlya spectator, but at other times I also had to participate - and thatparticipation became more and more intense over those years. If Ididn’t do as I was told, I was a ‘naughty girl’ and was locked in thecupboard on the upstairs landing. It was a frightening place to befor a young child - it was dark and, on one occasion, a spider droppedon to my arm (which is probably why I have a fear of being locked insmall spaces and spiders today). In addition, I was never totally safefrom the couple in there, as he would often come into the cupboardwith me.

During the ordeals with this couple, I learnt to ‘switch off’ (or dissociate)and block out what was happening. All my senses would cease towork and my mind would go to a different place - I don’t know where,but I certainly was not involved in the activities which were happeningto me at the time.

As a child I would often play hide and seek. If I found a really goodhiding place, I would feel safe and knowing that no one was going tofind me easily would give me a certain power over them. Maybethese times of dissociation were similar -“No one can harm me whenI’m invisible.” In recent months, one particular person has been agreat help to me in trying to find reasons for some of the things I’vebeen through and how I have reacted. Speaking of the dissociationas a child, it was suggested to me that “a child doesn’t have theresources to run away and be self-sufficient…where would she runto that she wouldn’t be brought back. Adults are too strong for herto refuse their advances but if she was invisible…ah, that is theanswer. In later life the abused tries to be of no worth, to beworthless (and that can take different forms, like being totallywithdrawn to the other extreme where the person becomes offensive)thereby proving, they think, that they aren’t worth knowing.Then, detached from people, nothing horrible can happen to them.”

I remember feeling that the toys in my room were watching andlaughing at me. The babysitters used to sing “Half a pound ofTuppenny Rice…” during some of their rituals, and I have hated thatnursery rhyme ever since. We had a jack-in-the-box which played thesame tune and I hid it so that no one would play with it. They spoiltsomething which, to a child, would have been an enjoyable part of theirplay and learning experience. From this point on my childhood dreamsturned to nightmares, both reliving the experiences exactly and/ormixing up all the different aspects and thoughts linked to the situationsI was experiencing - feelings which were scrambling for a place in mymind, fighting to be uppermost in my thoughts, playing with mymemories and adding to the confusion which was already a big part ofme. The pictures would be flashing through my mind throughout thenights: daddy, babysitters, soft toys, spiders, cupboards, baths … Thenightmares were a really mixed up mess.

Even now, I wonder whether my Mum knew anything. Did she knowwhat was happening? If so, why didn’t she do anything? Was sheunder a similar kind of ‘spell’ as I was? Or was she really blissfullyunaware of what was happening under the same roof? I will neverknow because I will never ask.

As we grew older and started school, things seemed to go from badto worse. Those babysitters were no longer around because we moved,yet again, but Dad seemed to become more aggressive towards bothMum and us. I would get a slap every so often, but it was usually theeldest of my brothers who would be on the receiving end of his extremetemper, having to suffer being hit with a belt or similar item. I did get afew bruises from time to time, when he took the ‘good hidings’ too far,but always managed to hide them.

This sexual and physical abuse went on until we moved to our final familyhome and I was eleven years old. The full-on sexual abuse from myfather stopped rather suddenly at this point, possibly due to the factthat thethree children had to share a room for a short time.

Even now, I actually feel quite guilty for talking about him when hecannot answer back or give his own side of the story, as if there is aneed for loyalty, continuing to be a ‘good girl’ and keep his secret.Maybe this feeling will pass with time but it is hard to think about a fatherbeing this type of person rather than one who is protective and loving.

Some of the things we were taught in Sunday School and church aboutGod being our loving father, caring for us and protecting us wereobviously in harsh opposition to the ‘truth’ I was being bombardedwith at home. I found everything so confusing and difficult tounderstand and piece together.

Now I’m a teenagerDad taught us that the better we did things, the fewer mistakes wemade, and the prouder he would be. If I got an ‘A’ in some subjectsat school, I always had to explain why I hadn’t got ‘A’ in the others.If my report wasn’t good enough, he wouldn’t sign it for me to takeback to school, so it had to be good. Or my handwriting was toountidy… I thought I was doing my best, and really tried hard at school,but it was never quite good enough.

I think I felt that I would do anything to gain his approval and thenmaybe everything else would stop. I have only recently learnt thatnothing I did was ever going to lead to approval and that if I had been100% perfect in everything, fault would have still been found.

This is the foundation on which I built and from which has resulted thelack of self-esteem, the belief that nothing I have ever done in life isworth anything, I am useless and feel a waste of space. I alwaysused to expect bad things to happen (and still do) and it seems that,every time I thought life was better, the abuse returned. Maybe thisis what life is like!

And this wasn’t the last of it…

I had a friend who was a boy, and we did like each other as friends,but not in a romantic/love-sick way, or so I thought. A group of usused to go out together to the cinema or bowling etc.,. I was fifteenand was supposed to be revising for ‘O’ levels but one of the boys washaving a party at home and I went there instead of working…We wereplaying a type of hide and seek in the dark, and had to hide in couples.(The couple doing the seeking had to guess who was with whom andwhere). We went to hide in one of the bedrooms and sat behind thedoor so that it wouldn’t be easily opened. We could not stop laughing.It was hilarious! But, one thing led to another…and my mind, onceagain, sped into oblivion. I was hurt, both physically and mentally,because I thought that all that type of abuse was in the past. Thesame thing happened again when he came round to my house toapologise. A few weeks later, and following a couple of tests, I realisedthat I was pregnant. This did not last long … and I have felt so guiltyand ashamed of that situation that it has only added to my lack of self-worth and self-esteem.

Maybe he doesn’t think he was to blame and that I led him on. That’sthe question that often comes to mind. And if he thinks the same, hewon’t have a problem with what he did. Maybe I should have worntrousers instead of a skirt; I should not have been so close to him behindthe bedroom door where we were hiding; I should not have laughed intohis chest when we were laughing so much; I shouldn’t have let himkiss me; And should have stopped him from going any further. All thesethings constantly run through my mind when the situation comes tothe forefront. I may not have contributed to it, but I can’t help feelingthat I could have done something about it (although, intellectually, Iknow it wasn’t my fault, the other part ofme won’t let me believe it properly.) Yet another battle to fight!

Did I tell anyone? No! One of the problems was that his family and minewere very close. I couldn’t do or say anything that would cause so muchdisruption in the lives of several people. It was bad enough that minewas a mess, and I couldn’t do that to people who did not deserve it.Secondly, I do not think I would have been able to tell anyone, nomatter how hard I tried. Even if I had wanted to say something, thephrases which were drummed into me as a child kept forcing me tokeep the secret and remain silent. The other reason was that I hadno proof: I had bathed and bathed and scrubbed myself ‘clean’ (althoughI still felt dirty inside); I had disposed of the pregnancy tests and hadnot consulted the doctor; and the ‘illness’ I suffered with at the timewas put down to the usual female complaints.

So, now I had a third batch of memories to squash down inside mymind, never to be retrieved intentionally. However, like trying toforce things into a container, there comes a point when there isso much to handle that some of it will inevitably leak out and becomedifficult to handle.

This has been the case on several occasions, and I have felt thesituation to be too much … so much so, that I have tried to stopeverything by ending my life. The first time this happened, I sneakedsome of my father’s medication out of the house and took it on theway to a church rehearsal. It was inevitable that I would end uphaving to go to the hospital and having my stomach pumped. (Lookingback, as well as thinking that this was my way out, I wonder if it wasalso my way of punishing him - i.e. if I took his tablets, it would behis fault). This resulted in me having to see a child psychiatrist. Myfather attended with me but, after the first visit, he told them thatI was not going any more. The second time it happened, he wouldnot let me go to any appointments at all. However, one of myteachers at school did arrange for me to see someone there (I believeshe was an educational psychologist). We talked about where I grewup, my friends and family - but I remained loyal to my father and saidnothing about any form of abuse. On both these occasions, it was mygrandfather who was there for me and who spent time with me, whilemy own parents just ‘swept the incidents under the carpet.’

There have been other attempts, and the most recent ended up withme staying in a mental health unit at the local hospital for around fiveto six months. I am not going to tell you that this was one of the mosthelpful times in my life because, although it did occasionally give me asense of safety and security, it did nothing to help me understand mythoughts or feelings. I was ‘locked away’ where no one could hurt me,but it was quite a lonely place to be, and the staff were too busy to beable to spend time talking. They were not to blame for that: it was thenormal NHS situation with too many patients and not enough staff.However, there was one positive which came from that hospital stay.Over the months, I very slowly learnt to trust the psychiatrist to whomI had been assigned. She was so understanding and never disregardedanything I said, and she was to continue to be my consultant when Iwas discharged from hospital. I thought that, at last, there was someoneI may be able to trust enough to actually talk about the past.Unfortunately, this was not to last, as there was a major change in themental health services and she was moved to another department.

This leads me to another issue with which I have been battling. It seemsthat, every time I feel that things are improving - whether thenightmares are fewer, or I get to know someone well enough to feelthat I may be able to talk, or just feel better in myself - somethingseems to bring me back to earth with a bump, so much so that I spendmy days expecting bad things to happen. Most of the time these thingswould have happened any way, and nothing I did/did not do or say wouldhave made any difference. But the mind can be a very strange thing, andI began to link my behaviour, actions and feelings to events, oftenbelieving them to be the cause of those situations. Over the years Ihave believed particular situations to have been my fault, when therehas been no link whatsoever!

A little olderMore recently, following an extremely bad few months and a very stressfulvisit to my GP, it was thought that a course of psychotherapy would behelpful to me. All I had to do was to talk to the therapist and she wouldhave all the answers - so I thought. I would just tell her what happened,bringing up each incident as it came to mind, and she would help me dealwith the memories and feelings surrounding it. But it wasn’t that easy!

After the first few sessions, I was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic StressDisorder. I didn’t really know much about this, but have since learnt quitea lot about the effects stressful incidents can have on one’s mind andreactions to other events, whether or not they are related to the particularincident(s).

Now I sometimes find it really difficult to separate what happened in thepast from what can happen in the future, to find some release from thepast, so that I actually have a future to look forward to. This is somethingI’m finding really hard and have been trying to work through it withthe therapist The problem is that the things which happened to mewhen I was younger, were at different points in life, and at specific times.Something only has to happen, however small, to remind me of the pastand the result can be a nightmare. For example, the situation with the‘boy friend’ was during my ‘O’ levels and now, every time I have to sitan exam or test, it really affects me badly. I have made consciousdecisions in the past not to let all this stuff intrude on the present,and it does work for a time until another reminder ‘slaps me in theface’. Let me explain a little: The childhood abuse was buried way downdeep for years and years, then the assault happened during my ‘O’ levelsand everything exploded to the surface, resulting in a lot of stress andconfusion. After a couple of years, everything became buried again andI was doing fine until my ‘A’ levels. That then brought up all the oldfeelings with the additional feelings from the more recent events -Another mess! Again, I consciously pushed things away, determinedthat they weren’t going to affect me. College came, along with amistrust of new people, along with exams! Another gigantic explosionwith additional feelings and hurt being added on top and things justwent from bad to worse. Do you get the picture? Every time Iconsciously make that effort not to let things ruin my life, somethingcomes along, adds to the mess inside and an even bigger explosionthan the previous one results. Every time this happens, I seem to beless able to handle the situation. My mind is very good at playingtricks on me. I think things are going well, then it gives me a nudgeor reminder to let me know that the ‘bad things’ are still there in myhead and can still ‘get to me’. Sometimes the reminder would bealmost negligible in ‘normal’ circumstances (like subject matter on aTV programme); other times it almost bowls me over and I find ithard to get up again.

My sessions with the psychotherapist have often been quite traumatic,but I have been told that in order to deal with things properly, I willgo through a bad period of time before things begin to improve.However, these sessions have not been without their interruptions:It took me a very long time to trust the first therapist to whom I wasreferred. I had a long break between some sessions because of mytime in the hospital then, at some point, she was due to start grouptherapy sessions with around six women who had similar experiences.I knew that, if I was to improve, I needed to talk to her before thesesessions began because I knew that I would not be able to talk aboutmy abuse in front of other people unless I had brought things out intothe open with the therapist first. Unfortunately, I ran out of time and,although I felt I was not ready to be part of such a group, I continuedto be a ‘good girl’ and do as I was told. I was, once again, plunged intoa situation where I was surrounded by strangers I could not yet trust.During the first weeks of this group therapy, I did considerably morelistening and thinking than I did speaking, but it did help to know thatI was not on my own. Unfortunately, a few weeks after commencingthe sessions, the therapist was taken ill and would be away for severalmonths, and a second therapist took over the group. Again this wasdifficult for me, although I appreciated the fact that the therapy wasable to continue. As the weeks went on, the other group membersstopped coming to the sessions until I was on my own. Now I hadthe situation of beginning one to one sessions with a new therapistwith whom I had never shared anything and had to build up trustbefore I did so.

Eventually, I did grow to trust her and gradually began to talk aboutthe past, piece by piece, bit by bit and ever so slowly. I stumbled at timeswhen things became too painful to talk about. So often I tried to talk- I wanted to talk - I needed to talk - but my defence mechanism wouldimmediately set to work again and blocked everything out.

I realised that I could not go on like this forever and I would need to starttalking openly and without fear. I knew that I didn’t have too long leftbefore the sessions would need to end and, for me, that was extremelyfrightening. I did not want to be left with all this ‘stuff’ in my headwaiting to burst out when no one would be there to help. If everything‘bubbled over’ I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it on my own.

It’s strange but, once I started, it was difficult to stop some of the thingsfrom coming out - like when you have a pan full of spaghetti and youcan’t pull out one strand at a time. You pull on one strand and it pullsout some of the others with it. I know there are still some ‘strands’ left,but it seems to be like the spaghetti which sticks to the bottom of thepan and needs to be scraped out

However, I would almost get to the point where I should be saying whathappened, instead of saying ‘when stuff happened as a kid’…and nothingmore, but then my mind would race on to what happened next andwould clam up and ‘go to my other place’. Sometimes I didn’t even feelit happening…Sometimes I was too scared to go any further. This, I felt,wasted the therapist’s time and I felt guilty because someone else couldhave had my place. I would build up to my session, determined that thenext time I WILL SAY THIS and THAT, but then I didn’t. Then I got soangry with myself at finding it so hard to say just a few words. Then allthe feelings of guilt, disgust, insecurity, hurt and wanting it all to stopcame flooding back. It was like a vicious circle.

Furthermore, because I had not been doing too well with the therapist, shethought that ‘talking therapy’ was not the right course of action for me. Ifelt that I just need a ‘good run’ at it. It just takes me so long to trustsomeone enough that, by the time I get around to actually saying anything,my time is up!I was getting desperate. I just wanted everything to be over with, althoughI knew the memories will never go away completely.

My time did run out. I had my final therapy session, and the despair andsense of failure I felt that day, almost drove me to the end of the road again

…I started writing this a few days after that final session!

I know that the therapy I have had has been of some help, but I still do notfeel ready to face the fears, memories and feelings and my reactions tothem on my own. I get annoyed at myself for allowing them taking overmy life and the every-day decisions I make. I’m tired of making excusesfor not going to different places and turning down invitations. Forexample, I often won’t go out with friends in case there are too manypeople around; I stand up much of the time on the train to/from workbecause I don’t want people to sit too close; I certainly won’t go to thecinema and sit in the dark with people I do not know; and sometimes Iwon’t even go shopping in case I panic or have a flashback. There havebeen many times, on bad days, when I have really missed my Grandmaand have been out and ‘seen’ her face - but then when I have lookedagain, it has been someone else. Much of the time it feels as if I amwalking around with a label on my head and that everyone is watchingme.

Do I think this is normal? Yes and no. It does not feel normal at thetime but, I have been told that these are totally normal reactions tohave. Physical proximity is something I have learned to fear, so I don’tsit on the crowded trains. Sitting in a darkened room with people I don’tknow (like the cinema) is a two-fold horror. I was shut in a darkenedcupboard without knowing when I would be let out. And I was abusedby ‘strangers’ (despite them being friends of my parents). ‘Seeing’Grandma is a way of saying, without using words, that I am lookingfor someone to trust.

I see things when I get flashbacks or when I dissociate, and then I blankthem out again. I know they must be quite bad because of the things thetherapist has said when it happens during a session, including the factthat I tense up and start scratching my arms quite badly. I do notknow what is happening in my dissociative state - To me, it’s just amissing piece of time, and I don’t even know whether it lasts a fewminutes or longer.

I hope I’m going to make it. I want to make it. But there are somethings about my dreams, nightmares and flashbacks I’m not liking atthe moment and I just hope they don’t get any worse before I learnto deal with them properly. I have to try and remember thatanything can be dealt with if it’s reduced to small enough bits. It’swhen we try to deal with everything all at the same time that itgets overwhelming. The problem I have is that some of them are sofrightening that, even though I know they are not actually happeningnow, it feels so real, even down to the pain and difficulty breathing.Sometimes I remember a part of something and not the rest, so amheld in suspense until the next part ‘resurfaces’. A bit like watchingone of those TV dramas which makes you wait until next week aftera really dramatic or frightening climax. It just seems that the more Isay, there are worst things just around the corner. I get a full pictureof one thing, then something else seems to start to take its place,not as a whole memory, but in parts - like another puzzle that I haveto piece together before getting the full picture. It is getting so hard,and it feels that I have no way of ridding myself of it all.

Quite recently, I was told that because these things didn’t happen tome overnight, they will take some time to piece together, and I justneed to accept the bits as they come and slot them in as they fit intothe overall picture. I should not try to force the information outbecause I have spent years trying to keep it in at all costs. Now suddenly,I’m trying to reverse the process and, not surprisingly, my brain isprotesting.

Believe me, I do try to keep all these things in mind but, it is sodifficult to try and remember when there are so many other thingscrammed into such a small space.

Beliefs: True or False?There has also been another major effect on my life: How do I mergeall my thoughts and feelings with the beliefs I have as a Christian,when they are obviously totally opposed to all I should believe. Theconfusion which began when I was a child still continues, with theadded complication of the feelings, hurt and anger I now feel as anadult. The questions began to multiply - “Why could God let thishappen to a small child when He is supposed to be a loving Father?”…“Why didn’t he keep me safe and prevent the hurt and distress Iwent through in my teenage years?” …”Why am I still suffering now?”Although I do know the answers to these questions - the fact is thatwe are all given free will, and it was the choice of those people carryingout the abuse to do so - the questions still bombard me when I am atmy lowest ebb.

There are times when I have argued with myself about attending thechurch services or activities: times when I have felt too disgusting,ashamed, dirty or even too evil to go; times when I have not wanted tobe anywhere near other people who were more ‘religious’ than I felt; andtimes when I thought that, if God didn’t care about me, then why shouldI care. I will be honest and say that sometimes I have stayed awayfrom the church because of these very reasons. However, becausethe church I now attend is quite small in comparison to others, thereare only a few people to carry the various responsibilities, and I oftenhave to force myself to go and fulfil my commitments. Again, I am beingthe ‘good girl’ who does not want to let other people down.

There is also the problem that I have really had to look at the thingsI was taught and led to believe were right as a child and compare themwith the things I know to be right and true now, from a Christianviewpoint. Some of the principles I grew up with are totally at oddswith those I am now beginning to realise are more firmly grounded.For example,

* my ideas about the love of a parent and God’s fatherly love - In

Church we are taught that God loves us and cares for us just likeour own father, but I grew up with a father who hurt me;

* the respect one shows to parents - when we are taught to

“Honour your mother and father” and, although I tried to do thatas a child, it is very difficult for me to do so now;

* the relationships between children and their parents - Obviously,

I now know that the relationship I had with my father was not‘normal’ and should never have happened, but my belief as a childwas that everyone’s daddy was like that;

* the belief that it is fine for other people within the church setting

to ‘love’ a child in the same way as the parents love the child - Eventhough the encounters with my baby-sitters ‘felt’ strange, I assumedthat this was right because mum and dad must have known. I nowknow that things are very different.

Obviously, some of these beliefs have had to be destroyed and replacedby those which are more consistent with true Christian values andmorals.

And now…

Now I’m left with so many questions:

Why? Why me? Why not? On my bad days, I wonder why somethinglike this could happen to someone so small and helpless - a child whohad no childhood, a child whose view of love was that love hurts. Whydidn’t I do something? Why didn’t I say something? Intellectually, Iknow that a child of that age had no chance of doing anything becauseI had neither the knowledge, experience nor ability to do so. However,there is a continuing battle going on in my head with the other part ofme which still feels guilty, dirty, unworthy and useless.

My dreams are often extensions of the nightmare which was reality.Thoughts of the past so often intrude my present thinking and distortmy view of the future. Some days the pictures are rolling through mymind like a continuous film reel, jogging my memory of every situation,every bad thought and feeling, bringing pain and hurt with every singlememory. My life seems to be constantly ruled by the past, affectingdecisions I make about where to go, what to do, who to trust…At worst, I feel desperate for everything to end and want to find a wayout.

The dissociation still happens at times, but it is no longer a nice, safeplace to be. There is often a sense of fear attached to it and, in thepanic which follows, I tend to hurt myself without even realising thatI am doing so. As a child the dissociation was helpful; now it is verymuch a hindrance in my recovery.

On my good days I can be prompted to look on the bright side and thinkthat going through these experiences will help me in the future. MaybeI will be able to help someone else to understand their own fears andfeelings. And maybe I will find that one person with whom I can trulyrelate.

I know that I may never find the answers to the questions which arecontinually causing me to argue with myself. I know that I may neverbe 100% better, with the past no longer hurting me. But, deep inside,there is a little part of me that continues to dream of something better,hoping that there will be some way that I will be able to deal with thehurt and stop blaming myself for the past, and enable me to live my life.And there will be some way of learning to trust enough to be able to findthe truth.Back to index

MARGARET

My Testimony – G.P. to Shop Assistant

This is how this came about. For fifteen years I worked as aGeneral Practitioner in an inner-city neighbourhood. What a lovely job!But hard,long hours. I used to say-What other job is like this? you comeinto the surgery at nine a.m. , sit down, and in comes the first patient,who, as often as not, cries all over you!General practice has always been eighty percent psychological care,and I enjoyed this aspect. Every patient was unique, and as a ChristianI suppose subconsciously that I was aware that every person was“Christ standing there”. For everyone has the spark of Christ within them.So, when I retired, as you have to when you reach a certain age, thepace of innovation in medicine being ever more relentless, and notwanting to give out-of-date advice to my dear patients, there was a gapthat everyday life couldn’t fill.So what did I do?Become a shop assistant!Only part-time, as I owed some time to my husband and large family.But strangely, working in the sort of shop that I do, it’s very muchthe same as General Practice. We are in a small church (Catholic) shop,and everyone who comes in is welcomed, and if they want to chat orunburden something, with no time limit, -and often a clue is gainedwhen they ask for a sympathy card, or a Mass card, the stories they tellare sometimes as poignant as any I have heard as a G.P.When it’s quiet I look up at the “plaster saints” and remember myother sort of customer. As a Catholic I believe in the intercession ofthe saints and I’m sure they used to aid me in the hectic life I used tolead before. But of course ultimately it is God who directs your life, andI’m glad he has led me to be a shop-assistant now.P.S. –as this is given for those who can’t get to church-I would justsay that visiting patients at home was the most rewarding part of myformer job, as I could see the person in their own setting, just like God can!

We welcome Pam Thomas of Maidstone (England, U.K.)to the web site as she shares her personal experience of God.Pam hasYet, as I reflect on the differences of the day I can but thinkthat the standards that were inculcated into me have stoodthe test of time and brought me through the many trials anddifficulties that life has presented to me.That is not to say that life has been hard, difficult andunyielding. Far from it, for I have had a wonderful life of richblessings and fulfillment.

Although I was brought up in a Christian home there camea time when I had to make my own commitment to Christ andlive a life in keeping with the demands placed upon Hisfollowers.Over the years, my knowledge, understanding and spiritualawareness has varied in consequence of the experiencesthat have come my way.

Although blessed with a happy family life with both myhusband and my family finding satisfying employment bothin the workplace and in the corps (church), there have beenlow times when my faith has been sorely tried.Although health problems within the family worried us greatly,we were gifted with so much of God’s presence.My husband suffered a major car accident in which for a timeit appeared as though his life was in the balance. Againthrough the powerful support brought about from his friends,colleagues and corps fellowship, he has made a sufficientrecovery to allow him to continue in his role as Bandmasterat the corps.

And now to me, for as we were beginning to recover from myhusband’s situation and beginning to make plans for ourretirement, I suffered a major stroke, which although, againthrough much prayer has improved sufficiently for me toenjoy a reasonable measure of recovery, I was forced toretire from my post as head teacher of a large and progressiveinfant school.

So life has not been a ‘bed of roses’. But am I downhearted?Not at all, for during all these seemingly insurmountablesituations those lessons learned in those tender years haveheld and continue to hold me in good stead at the other endof the spectrum.

Through it all, the times of joy and exhilaration, the days ofsadness and anxiety, I have been aware of His presenceproviding me with just the right word for the situation at hand.

I continue to be busy visiting elderly friends andacquaintances in my village, helping in the leadership of aninterdenominational Emmaus house group and assistingwith the Parent and Toddler group at the corps. Oh andthere’s also the grandchildren!! Who’d have it any different?!Back to indexTESTIMONIES OF MELANIE AND STEVE SCOULDINGTESTIMONIES OF MELANIE AND STEVE SCOULDING

STEVE:

The old me, the one that had no God, Jesus or The Holy Spirit wasn't really very nice. I was very sceptical and cynical about everyone and everything. My moods would change at the drop of a hat. I could on occasions be very aggressive. Reality was, that some people were scared of me and if I am honest, I was scared of myself too. It didn't matter how hard I tried to put things right, in every part of my life, things simply got worse.

All of the way through my adult life I had, from time to time heard a voice saying, "I'm over here. Come on over, let's talk." But I would always say, "No thanks, I'll manage. I'll be all right." The voice that I had been hearing and ignoring was God. Jesus had been outside of the door and I had been refusing to let him in. I really did need to be taught a very important and fundamental lesson.

Then reality started to hit home! I could not cope on my own! I desperately started to look for God! I pleaded with him for help but the more I pleaded the farther away He seemed to get! I thought that had He had turned away from me, when in realty it had been me that had been doing the turning away. I had until then, been unwilling to hand it all over to God. I had wanted to keep control of some part of my life. What a fool I was! The only thing I could do was to make things worse, and I did!

On February 19, 2002 at about 3.00 am I could not cope! I had tried to put things right and had failed quite dramatically. I was in free fall! Fear? I had never known anything like it! Any one of my problems I could have probably dealt with, badly more than likely, but I would have muddled through. Nonetheless, when God said, "Steve, here they are. All of them! All of them together! All at once! Now let us see if you can you really cope without a some help from a friend who really does cares?" I didn't stand a chance - Thank God!

As soon as I let Jesus through the door and into my life, the pain started to ease and things have started to get better and better! I have got my life back. I have experienced at first hand the presence of God through the Holy Spirit. Hehas been in my lounge! He has spoken to one of my cats! He has been with us every time we have met together on the Alpha course and, when I asked for the Holy Spirit tocome and live within me, he literally knocked me over! And praise God; he has been with me every day since.

My whole life has changed. Everything around me has changed. I cannot stop speaking to people about God, Jesus, The Holy Spirit and what they have done for me and to me. Ask my family and friends they have taken the brunt of this.The whole experience of what it means to be born again through the Holy Spirit is quite incredible. If this is what being a Christian is all about? Yes please! I'll have some more thank you very much.

One very real truth that I have discovered is this: It really does not matter who stands against you; when God stands with you, Jesus by your side and the Holy Spirit living within your soul, there is nothing that can really do you any harm. It says in Romans 1:16, "… I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God for the Salvation of everyone who believes…" I used to be ashamed ofspeaking about my beliefs, about God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit. Not any more. Never again will I deny Jesus. Because I been saved through Him and by Him.

Since completing the Alpha course at Chatham Salvation Army Corps and asking that the Holy Spirit come and live within me, I have found a new way of living that I finddifficult to put into words. Alpha opened my eyes wide. It asked me questions and more importantly it gave me answers. It made me think and it pointed me in the direction of how I could work towards having a truly loving relationship with God through Jesus. I still make mistakes and go off the deep end, saying and doing things that I shouldn't. I still suffer doubts, anxiety and sometimes very real fears, but my faith in Jesus and the Lord always bring me around. I now feel genuine concern for those, whoever they are, who are worse off than me and I am finding that I wanting to help others more and more.

I have found that the first casualty of becoming a Christian was that my pride had to go. Not as easy as it first sounds. I have had to try to get things in my life in the correct order. I have just read "A life worth living" by Nicky Gumble. In the book it explains the way in which Sunday schools try to get this message across by using the word JOY, i.e. Jesus - Others - You. It is such a simple principal, but so hard to put into practice. Nonetheless, when you do get it right, what a difference it makes.

I never thought that I could feel as content in my own heart as I do when I meet with the Lord. To know, and I mean know, that Jesus is always with me, even when I am down, is out of this world. Every time I feel the Spirit in and around me myemotions go out of control and I weep for joy.

When I accepted Christ as my Saviour, I tried to rationalise it all and understand why I had to be with The Salvation Army and more importantly to me why Chatham? Having just completed the Alpha Course, I followed the guidelines thatit sets out. It says that you should put things to test. Prove beyond all reasonable doubt that God is really speaking to you. So I did and sure enough God spoke to me. A coupleof the questions that I asked were these: (1) Why Alpha at Chatham, a round trip of over 70 miles from where we live?I could have easily walked 500 yds up the road to where the local Baptist Church run the courses! And (2) why was Malcolm Westwood, made available to Mel and I when I had my breakdown? I had been attending my local Anglican Churchat All Saints, Belvedere, for over two years and could have very easily called on Irene - The Parish Priest - at any time! She really is such a lovely person. The answer that came to me was really quite simple and very straightforward; and that is this: The Salvation Army in general and Chatham Corps in particular, is where the Lord wants me to be. And who am I to argue with the Him? I've tried that one before and boy did I come off second best. I have no real idea why the God wants us here. Neither Mel nor myself has any family background within The Salvation Army. But I know that this is where both Mel and I have got to be.

God has worked through so many loving people, both withinand outside the "Army", to bring me to this point in my life and if you will bear with me for just a little longer I would like to thank them for what they have done for Mel and myself: My mum, brothers and sister and all of the rest of the family that have been there for me and have supported both of us when things were really difficult. I love you all.Vivienne and Graham, what would Mel and I have done without you both? Angela, Jean, Verna, Brenda, Tracey, Steve and by no means least, Murray: You are all livingexamples of Gods' Love here on earth. He must be so proud of you all.

But I leave Malcolm to the last. He, by Gods grace, power and mercy, literally, saved my life. Malcolm has never judged me. When I was hurting so very badly and thought that God had abandoned me, Malcolm showed me how wrong I was and that God truly does love me and will continue to love me no matter how bad everything appears or how many times I mess up. Malcolm showed me how forgiving God is and that He loves me so much that He sent His one and onlySon to earth to die for me. I don't know how I can ever repay Malcolm for his love and kindness. Malcolm is a top, top man and I love him to bits.

I nearly forgot. I have left out one very important person. Melanie (The wife). She has been truly sent to me by the Lord. Every day I pray the "Prayer of Jabez" - asking for God's Blessings. Melanie is the answer to that prayer: And I can prove it. Melanie is love. She loves me with out doubt or measure. Love can only come from God. Therefore, she has come from God to me and I give him thanks and praise for every day that I can share with her.

MELANIE:

If anyone had told me that I would be enrolled as a member of The Salvation Army, I would have said, “sorry, you’ve got the wrong person!” But God didn’t listen to me. He had other ideas.I do not come from a church-going family. As a child, the only time I ever stepped inside a church was for a wedding. My secondary school was St Martin in the Fields, at Tulse Hill, andit naturally had strong links with the Church in Trafalgar Square.We attended services there as a school, at Christmas and on Founders Day. It was part of school life, but nothing more.

At sixteen, my friends and I started to attend a church youth club, for the sole purpose of meeting boys. This was where I first met Steve. One of the conditions of membership of the youth club was attendance at a Sunday service once a month. This was my first real encounter with Church as a place of worship. A strong youth group developed there and we took part in lots of youth activities, regular Bible Study and holidays. It was on one of these holidays that I first met Jesus. I asked the Lord to comeinto my life, and he did. For a couple of years, things were great. Steve and I married and had our first son. We named him Simon Peter and hoped that he would grow up to have some of the strength of his namesake. We have not beendisappointed.

Then Steve joined the Police. We needed security with a new baby, but this meant a move away from the Church we had been attending. The Lord didn’t seem as important to us as he had been and we let life get in the way. We had two morebeautiful sons, Andrew James and Mark Thomas and life carried on, with its problems and worries. I never forgot that God was there, but I never had any time to give Him. I only ever talked to him when I needed help- never to say thankyou or to worship Him.

The last few years had been particularly hard. One problem seemed to follow another and it often felt as if we were going round in circles, not getting anywhere. Steve had a health scare and was very frightened. He started to reach out, looking for God, and began attending our local Parish Church, but he made sure that he went to the early morning service where there was no singing as he always said that he hated music in Church! I rarely went with him, preferring to stay in bed a little longer on a Sunday morning.

Steve asked me if I would go to an “Alpha” course with him. I didn’t have any idea what it was- I was scared that it was some sort of brainwashing! I was reluctant, but he kept on and on and eventually I said I would go to keep him company.He duly enrolled us both in the Alpha course, with me still not at all sure that I wanted to go.

Things at home got worse and worse and it all came to a head on February 19th, the day before the Alpha course was due to start. Steve could not cope any more and I was really out of my depth, never having seen someone suffering in that waybefore. I telephoned the doctor, Steve’s mum and our friend Graham whom I knew would contact Malcolm to let him know that there was no way we could attend Alpha the following evening. Within hours, Malcolm was at our door, giving us boththe comfort and help that we could never have dreamed of. He was literally a Godsend and he persuaded us that it would be helpful to us both to attend the first meeting the next evening.

The rest is history! We found friendship and love from people we had never met before. We attended a Sunday service and found that the whole place was filled with God. We were welcomed with open arms and we both looked forward to Sundays and Wednesday evenings. There were times when worship here seemed very strange- all that clapping and tunes that just made us smile! Then there are the songs that we think we know-Wrong! The music is different, the last line is repeated- it’s very confusing! I don’t think we’ve yet seen a meeting that has accurately followed the printed Order of Service! Surely church wasn’t supposed to be fun!! . But the presence of God here, in this place, is never in doubt. That is why Chatham Citadel is so special .The Holy Spirit is working through so many of you, in the music, in the prayers, in the sermons and in the fellowship.

The Alpha Course continued. With each passing week, I learnt more. About God, about Jesus, about Christianity, about the incredible honesty of the other people on the course and also about myself. Then came the Alpha away day. Wonderful food,a beautiful venue and the opportunity to meet the Holy Spirit. To be filled to the brim with the love which can only come from God. I asked for forgiveness and in return I was given the promise of eternity in Heaven.

I cannot thank God enough for the love and the blessings that He gives to me. Through all those years when I had turned my back on Him, He never once gave up on me.

My life has changed and it is much improved. There are the practical changes, like learning to drive, because I don’t want to be in a position where I am unable to get here. And there are the more fundamental changes, in the way I see the world.I am still as weak and foolish as I ever was but I know that the Lord’s hand is in everything around me, and if I look to Him inall things, He will always be there for me, leading me, guidingme and loving me.

God brought us both here, to Chatham and we know that he wants us to be soldiers. He has worked through so many of you to bring us here. We do not know what the future holds, but we know that our lives are so much richer than they were before. It will probably take us a lifetime to learn the things about life in The Salvation Army, that many of you take for granted, but with God’s help, we know that the future for us will be a good one.UPDATECaptains Steve and Mel Scoulding…….Steve and Mel were commissioned and are the Corps officers in charge of the St. Helier Corps of The Salvation Army. Steve's mum has also become a Salvationist at Evesham Corps. Steve and Mel's son, Mark, entered the training college a year after his parents were commissioned. He is now Lieutenant Mark Scoulding and is the Corps Officer at Watford Salvation Army. Steve's brother, Paul and his wife, Wendy have also become uniformed Salvationists.

th God’s help, weknow that the future for us will be a good one.

UPDATE

Steve and Mel were commissioned as Lieutenants in the Salvation Army and have been appointed in charge of the St. Helier Corps of The Salvation Army.They have since been promoted to the rank of Captain. Steve's mum has also become a Salvationist at Evesham Corps. Steve and Mel's son, Mark, entered the Salvation Army Training college the year after his parents were commissioned and is now Lieutenant Mark Scoulding and is the Corps Officer of Watford Salvation Army. Steve's brother, Paul and his wife, Wendy have also become uniformed Salvationists.

DAVID ROWLEY’S TESTIMONYDavid works as a Manager in the Insurance world and is based in Delaware, USA.

Health Problems and God

“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not on thineown understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him andHe shall direct thy paths.”Proverbs 3:5-6When I was asked to write my testimony about coping withhealth problems and my faith I was not sure what I couldwrite that would help anyone but the more I thought aboutit the more I realized that perhaps someone might find mytestimony of help so here goes.From the age of 18 to 34 I lived with a progressivelydegenerating back problem that got to the point where if Icoughed or sneezed I would loose feeling and use of my legs.This naturally limited what I could do and even simple thingslike playing in the church worship group became hard as Icouldn’t stand long enough to get through the praise andworship session. Through this time people had prayed forme to be healed but that never happened and I did notunderstand why if everyone was praying for my healing thatI was still suffering. I finally came to realize that I can notdictate to God what to do and when to do it as he has fargreater plans and better timings than I could ever imagineand so Proverbs 3:5-6, which is a favourite verse of myGrandad, started to hold real meaning for me. We like tocontrol our lives, to map out our own direction and to makethe choices but that is not what God wants, he wants us torely on him, let him shoulder our burdens and that has beena long process for me to learn. Finally in 2004 I had a spinefusion operation and for the next two years everythingseemed normal until July this year.In July things started to go wrong for no reason. I started toget major pain in my lower back and started to loose strengthand use of my right leg followed a couple of weeks later withboth knees starting to give me problems. I have to admit atthat point it knocked me for six and I was left thinking “Lordwhat has happened, what is the reason for this”. This rapidlygot worse so that even walking up a flight of stairs was mylimit and I got dependant on narcotic prescription painkillers.I was referred to a back specialist and a knee specialist butthe result was that they weren’t sure what was causing theproblems as the MRI and x-ray did not show any problemsand so I was to try physical therapy and medication. I haveto admit I went through a period where I was frustrated withlife and my faith took a hit just from knowing that just doinga normal activity would cause me pain and not knowing whatthe cause of the problems were. But again Proverbs 3:5-6came back to me, reminding me of what I should do and whileit was hard to get out of the rut of frustration when I looked atmy life I could see where God had always been with me,helping me, even at times when I felt alone. With my initialback problem he was with me and healed me through surgery.After spending 4 years trying to find a job locally with no joyhe gave me a job in my home town in the same building asmy wife which cut back my daily commute from 6 hours to1 hour.So I’ve come to realize that by acknowledging that I didn’thave to deal with these health issues on my own and by puttingmy trust in him then things are a lot easier to bear. I knowthere will still be days when I feel low and frustrated becauseI can’t do something I used to find easy and I’ve been told thatI will eventually have to have both knees replaced but I knowthat I can just turn to the Lord and ask for his strength at thosetimes to get me through the bad patches and focus on him. Hehas promised to always be with us and certainly looking backover my life I can see how true that is so I have no reason todoubt that it will be the same in the future.Back to indexJEAN JONES

I asked God to forgive my sins and come into my life when I wasquite young and all my life have regularly attended my church,

Chatham Salvation Army. This doesn’t mean, however, that I fullyexperienced the blessings of the Holy Spirit during those years.I did try to be a good Christian and Salvationist.

I married a Christian Salvationist in 1960 and our two girls wereborn in 1964 and 1969. I really felt that life couldn’t be happierand was satisfied that God was blessing us. I had no idea whatthe future held for us and so it was quite devastating when mymarriage failed in 1982. It won’t be helpful to anybody for meto go through the details but I can remember asking God to notlet me be bitter and resentful. There were many times when all Icould do was place my burden on His shoulders and lean on Hiseverlasting arms. The amazing thing was that, despite my sorrowand crying, He gave me grace to carry on with my life. I haddoubted whether I could continue to regularly attend church withoutmy husband but I did, although sometimes the services were a blur.God is truly remarkable – He sends friends to help, He teaches us tobe content with our lot, He provides, He gives us hope for the futureand He overcomes our tendency for bad thoughts and feelings withHis boundless grace.

All this was over twenty years ago now and God is still there, loving me.There have been changes in my life that I am certain have beenbrought about by the Holy Spirit. During the Alpha courses I haveattended both as participant and leader and supporter, I have beenreally blessed and filled with the Holy Spirit. I feel as though my eyeshave been opened to a new world that I never knew before. I amso much more aware of the way God is working in people’s lives.I have seen how, in placing their lives into His hands, people havebeen changed completely from the inside. Their whole thought processeshave altered and from leading lives of unhappiness and discontent theyare brimming with a deep joy found in knowing Christ Jesus.

My prayers are answered. One specifically was that God would placein my heart a longing to read the Bible daily. Through my life I havefluctuated in my daily readings but it was through a Sunday morningsermon that I was made aware that to have this habit was not enough.I had to put my heart into it and allow God to make His word real.I knelt before Him and asked for the Holy Spirit to do this work in me.Nothing tangible happened there and then but since then I have beenattending the weekly bible study sessions, I have helped to prepare andlead a ‘Christianity for Life’ nurture course which really blessed me andI feel that I just want to know more about God, to worship Him and loveHim.

The question is: why didn’t I feel this way before? I can tell you theanswer. Although I came to God many times over the years and askedHis forgiveness and for Him to cleanse my heart, I didn’t trust Himenough to let Him into all the corners of my life. What if He wantedme to do something I didn’t like or couldn’t do? What if He took over andmade me a different person? What if .?It dawned on me eventually that if God made me, formed me in mymother’s womb, knew all about me and loved me then He would notwant to do anything to hurt me or cause me pain. Even though I hadsaddened Him, He still loved me. So, I could trust Him implicitly. Hisway would be the way of love. If there was a special work He had plannedfor me then He would put a desire in my heart to want to do this and Hewould equip me for it. So, I put my trust in Him and gave my heart toHim completely. What a relief and inner peace He has given me.

Just evidence of this is that I felt there was an urgent need for a nurturecourse to be developed for new Christians and Salvationists at the church.I did not feel capable of leading this but what did God do, He put the samethoughts into the heart of an experienced trainer and well respectedChristian leader at the church. He has been the driving force fordeveloping the ‘Christianity for Life’ course but I have been his verywilling assistant. I believe that God blessed the course and those whotook part in it.

I can testify to the truth of the words of Proverbs 3 v 5-6 ‘Trust in theLord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. Inall your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths’. I just thankHim for loving me and for the grace He continues to give me day by day.God bless you.Back to indexGWEN MUNSHAW

I was born into a home with Godly parents and four siblingsfollowing dad’s service in World War 2. My father, Clifford Nichol,was raised on the Canadian prairies, and my mom, Nellie, wasfrom Kent, England. We lived in Thunder Bay and then in Brampton,Ontario where my brothers and sisters played in a Salvation Armyband. Dad had been and officer in Saskatchewan and mom hadworked in the S.A. Headquarters before coming to Canada.

In the early ‘50’s the Lord called dad to go into full time service,this time without the uniform, so we set off in a car with a smallluggage trailer for parts unknown. We traveled throughout Canadaand the United States, preaching, singing and telling the goodnews of salvation. Many people were saved and touched by God’spower, and we saw many miracles of healing and provision overthe years. In time we graduated to larger living quarters, andwere soon traveling in a converted bus with texts painted on thesides and a sign that read “Mobile Soul Winners Clinic”. Lookingback I remember the strong faith of my parents – especially ofmy mother, who would look at trouble as if it were nothing, andto the Lord who was everything. Nothing seemed impossible.What an adventure we were on.

One by one our family members left to go their own way, andsoon we were all in the ministry, scattered (or I should sayplanted) across the nation. In the early 1960’s mom and dadwent back into the Salvation Army as officers and were happilyservingGod and man, speaking the Word in faith and power.

In 1964 I married Vic Munshaw and we went directly into BibleCollege. At the time Vic had no intention of going into the ministry,but the Lord has a way of revealing His will to the most unwilling!We found ourselves in the Northwest Territories ministering inFort Simpson along the banks of the McKenzie River. From thecity to the far north was quite the switch, but we loved the beautyof the land and the opportunity to minister to the aboriginal people.Two of our sons, Stephen and Kevin, were born in the north, andthe third, Robin, was born in Alberta at our next place of ministry.We pastored in seven churches in 34 years and saw God movein remarkable ways. I wish I could tell of the miracle of the “littlechurch that could”, and did. Or about the dry well that was drilled,and after much prayer and a dream in the night, water burstforth! Or about the young men and women who caught the visionand are in ministry today! The Christian school that was startedand today is bursting at the seams; the church that gave up hope,but hope was birthed again; the missions trip when a SalvationArmy officer was healed of cancer; the Korean connection – theprecious young people who were hungry for more of God; thefully paid trip to Korea and the privilege of meeting Youngi Choand speaking in Prayer Mountain. The many dramas and playswritten and directed to spread the message of Christ and tobring the church together in unity – and the souls brought intothe kingdom because of it - all in His plan and purpose. Somany experiences, so many miracles, so many blessings.

So the years have passed and with it many changes have come.My three sons and their families are all in ministry – each onefulfilling the plan and purpose of God for their lives. They arerealizing for themselves the faithfulness of the Lord. But thebiggest change was that my precious husband, Vic, was calledhome to be with Jesus on May 4th 2000. What a difference thatmakes in one’s life! After years of a wonderful marriage andministry together, and all the adventures, all the miles traveled,then, within just four days of a heart attack, he was gone. Thisjust wasn’t supposed to happen! However, underneath are theeverlasting arms, and I was in His care. We were pastoring achurch in northern British Colombia at the time, so of course,as much as I would have loved to, in my heart I couldn’t stay.With great support from my family, I sorted, packed, sold andmoved. It’s really something to do that for the first timewithout your loving spouse beside you!

My sister, who had been in the north ministering for forty years,asked me to come north – back to the Northwest Territorieswhere we had begun so many years before – to teach in a BibleCollege. So with my belongings in storage I came, and for nearlyseven years I have been living in Fort Smith, teaching and leadingworship in the winter months, and traveling over the spring andsummer, preaching and visiting my family. I have eightgrandchildren, which of course, is another whole adventure.

Just a few months ago, after a very short time in the hospital,my mom, Nellie Nichol, went to be with her Lord. She was over97 years of age and very healthy until a fall put her in the hospital.She played the piano in the church, and led a Bible study forseniors well into her 96th year. What a life of faith she lived!She didn’t believe in carrying a worry, as that was the Lord’sbusiness. Even when my brothers were taken home suddenlyas a result of accidents, and my father passed away at the ageof 70, all within 5 years, mom walked in faith asserting that theLord had everything under control. She trusted fully in Him andrested on His promises daily. In fact, each morning she wouldread nothing before she read the Word and prayed for us all. Herprayer list filled several brown envelopes, as for years she liftedup people from all walks of life from the Queen to the child onthe street, from the mayor to the town trouble maker. Therewere names and pictures of prime ministers, pastors, actors,officials, taxi drivers, Christian friends, and agnostics in thoseenvelopes. We are still hearing how she touched countless peoplethroughout her lifetime right up to her last day on earth. Momhad a vision of heaven just a few months before she left us.Jesus told her He was going to take her home on a Sunday,and so on November 26th 2006, He did. Her life of faith willcontinue to influence and inspire us.

Today, I am trusting in the power and grace of the Lord,confident in His love, and walking in great expectation andexcitement as I continue in the legacy of believing God for theimpossible.Back to indexCoraine Carney

I am a 45-year-old housewife happily married for 24 years toa fantastic man with one wonderful son aged 23 and I’m aChristian.I started my walk with God when I was christened at 1 monthold in a little Catholic church in Dinnington in South Yorkshirecalled St Josephs. My parents where Catholic but didn’t go tochurch and 3 out of 4 of my grand parents where Catholic too.The other was in the Salvation Army. We had Anglicans, JehovahWitnesses, atheist and many in between in our extended familybut mostly Catholic. I was sent to a Catholic junior school whereI was taught more about God and Jesus and all the stories of theBible and went through the usual things that a Catholic childwould do like making my First Holy communion and Confessionat 7 and Confirmation at 10 never really understanding why Iwas doing these things. It was just the done thing with prettydresses and parties. The thing I did understand in all this wasthat God was with me and loved me but not why or to whatextent or why He sent his only son to forgive my sins.I used to go to church every Sunday and went through themotions parrot fashion. I could say the words in my sleep andbackwards but I loved going to church and didn’t like to missit as God was the only one that I could talk to and I used topray so hard for him to help me understand everything. I wasone of those people that needed signs so I used to pray andpray for one of the statues to move for me or some other signto let me know I wasn’t alone which is how I felt but of coursenothing ever moved- only me from my knees to walking outthe church door. Mum used to make me take my little brotherwith me to church and I hated that. I loved my brother but shealways trussed him up in Sunday best and we sat at the frontof the church with the rest of the extended family and themoment the priest swung the incense or he got hot he wouldpass out and I’d have to drag him to the back of the church thentake him home so missing my chat with God for that day, so Ithought.I passed my eleven plus exam and an entrance exam to NotreDame High School (for young ladies, it said on the brass plaqueon the door) a convent school in Sheffield and travelled daily 20plus miles to school and 20 plus miles back each day. Some ofthe nuns were wonderful and very inspiring but no one everencouraged me to read the Bible and I never owned one untilabout 5 years ago. My path with the Lord went on with me stillasking question but by this time out loud and with opinions thatthe nuns didn’t like. I used to go to the school chapel at lunchtimes and plead with God to show me a way to go or some sortof understanding, but he was silent, yet I still knew he was there.In my mid teens some things happened that made me questionGod and the church in a big way and I can’t really talk aboutthem. They are too deep and too painful but I eventually did thetypical thing and left the church that I loved and tried to end myrelationship with God, thinking that he didn’t love me any moreand that he had abandoned me. I stopped praying and was goingto be an atheist if it killed me, but the analogy that I like to useis, that although I no longer swam with the Lord I liked to dip mytoe in the water now and again. My battle had started at thispoint and I was not going back so there! He had a different idea.I met a guy that I fell in love with; he was Catholic… but didn’tgo to church. He had issues too and felt he had been forced tobe an altar boy and forced to be what he didn’t want to be. Wegot married in the Catholic Church even though I was pregnantwith a full nuptial service, which we thought was hypocriticalbut family pressure forced the choice, as is often the case.I had my son five months later and had him christened at sevenweeks old in the Catholic faith as I still, even though I fought it,believed in God and wanted him to have some relationship withHim too. I sent him to a Catholic junior school so that I didn’thave to teach him about God and other than taking him to Masswhen a parent was required, I stayed distant. When he’d madehis First Holy Communion he too stopped going to church as wegave him the choice and didn’t want to force him.Life went on as it does with my health going up and down as Ihave Crohn’s disease and other health troubles. I have had illhealth most of my life but never blamed God once, even throughthe many trips to surgery and months, days and hours of pain.I always told people when asked, “I’m a Christian” but was I?NO I was just person that tried to be nice to people did charitywork, helped anyone in need and only went to church to seethe architecture and attend weddings or funerals. I didn’t talkto God any more either. I was lost.About five years ago, although many what I called Bible bashershad come to my door and though I’d politely chatted I had thensent them on their way until a man called at my door and asked“Do you know Jesus?” This man was very tanned, in shorts(It was July). He had a very strong Liverpudlian / Australianaccent; aged in his 50’s with a beautiful serene smile. (I latergot to know him through his visits to the UK and his name isDave Sansbury and I thank him with all my heart.) I said,“Well I’m a Christian and a Catholic so yes” and he said “Yesbut do you know Jesus?” and I had to say, “NO, I don’t thinkI really do.” He asked me to watch a video so I said I wouldbut by the next week when he called back for it, I hadn’t; itwas still where I’d left it when he gave it me. I said I did wantto watch it so he said would I return it to the little church upthe road the next Sunday morning as he was going back toAustralia so I said I would. Sunday morning came and I’dwatched the film, a typical documentary type film, interestingbut not mind blowing, so I got ready and left for SwallownestBaptist church. I hadn’t told my husband where I was going,just that I was returning the video. I nervously walked intowhat I came to know is the schoolroom as the church wasbeing renovated. I felt so, well I can’t explain, but welcome!I saw a couple of faces that I had met in the village beforebut didn’t know they where Christians. I stayed for the servicewhich I enjoyed and quietly left but although there where notongs of flames or claps of thunder and lightning, I felt different!For two weeks I silently struggled with this strange pull, Icouldn’t sleep well and my mind was a mess. I was arguingwith myself and felt strange. I didn’t go rushing back but battledtrying to get my head together as they say, then the Pastorfrom the church called Malcolm Purdy came by whilst I washelping my husband build a wall in our garden and asked if Iwas ok and would I like to go back to the church some timeand without hesitation I said yes.I started attending regularly and was welcomed like a familymember who had just been away a while. God was and isevident in every single person in that church in some measure.It was- is- amazing. They encouraged me to start to actuallyread the Bible and answered every question I ever asked themto the best of their ability and if they couldn’t answer straightaway we just prayed about it till the answer came through.I was like a kid in a sweet shop! Asking questions with a thirstfor knowledge you just can’t imagine. Later that year I did anAlpha course and asked yet more questions till that ChristmasI asked Malcolm if I could be baptized as I wanted Jesus in mylife and accepted him as my Lord. I was baptized on 23rdFebruary 2003.My family and close friends thought I’d gone potty but neveronce tried to turn me away or put obstacles in my way. Sincethen I have had many trials enough to send me away from theLord again like my dad dying suddenly a few weeks after I wasbaptized leaving me with a very sick mother who became analcoholic and a brother that I didn’t get on with or trust as he’dbeen a, lets say, a very bad lad on more than one occasion.My husband although he is not a Christian and is adamant thatthere is no God, is very supportive of my walk with God andhelps with things at church and or the people from church ifthey need him. My son is still taking a rain check, I think theAmericans say, but both as well as extended family have seenjust what Jesus is doing in my life and have commented justhow different I am for the better. My sister in law (I call herthis even though she never married my brother, she’s morelike the little sister I never had) let me start to bring herdaughter (my brother’s child) to church and eventually camewith us with her baby daughter, as she said she wanted to havewhat she saw I had from the Lord. She was baptized last Juneand now I take other nieces and my nephew (my brotherschildren, 4 to 3 different mums-it’s complicated.) My relationshipwith my brother has grown back to what it should be and I canhonestly say I am one fortunate lady. It’s so true what it saysin the Footprints poem, “I never left you, it was then that I carriedyou!”I admit, I still have moments when the evil one tries to attackme but now my feet are firmly planted on my path with the Lordso I just put on the armour of God and brush him away withprayer and my faith in the one true God.My aim as a Christian is to help ALL Christians to work togetherand to witness so that others know the power of the living Lord.

These are the words of Charlotte:Years ago there was a song which began….’Where do I beginto tell the story of how great a love can be.’. Well this is astory – a non-fiction story of just that, a story of a greatlove for a person, a daughter, our daughter. Her nameis Charlotte and she is now 30 years old, some of youwill have heard about her and I would imagine you haveprobably prayed for her.Charlotte was born in January 1977. The day was wild andstormy with a snowy blizzard that affected the power andthroughout the birth the lights flickered on and off as thepower failed, we should have realised then what stormyyears were ahead for us all.Charlotte was a very much loved and adored child byparents, nana, aunties and uncles etc. She went alongevery week to the local Salvation Army (Grimsby Citadel)where we all worshipped. As she grew older she becamea junior soldier and I remember as if it was yesterday, aSalvation Army flag was wrapped over her shoulders as shewas enrolled as a junior soldier. Charlotte still has that flagto this day. She played in the junior band and timbrels andsang in the singing company, participating in corps life to thefull. In her teenage years Charlotte began to change, she beganto ‘hang around’ with youths we would have preferred her not to.But Charlotte was very strong willed and wouldn’t listen to anyadvice we had to give. These years in themselves were verytraumatic, but far worse was to come, when she was only 17years old she left home and moved in with her boyfriend of thetime who was into crime and it wasn’t very long before he wassent to prison, and this is when Charlotte’s problems began toget really serious. She refused our offer to return home andinstead turned to drugs. We saw all our hopes and dreams forher disappearing. Charlotte herself got into crime to fund herhabit and we’ve had the police knocking on the door more timesthen we would care to remember. Charlotte lost weight, lost herself-respect, lost her dreams and lost touch with God. But wenever gave up on her, just loved her, prayed for her, fed herand offered her a home. Charlotte has never been your typicaldrug user - yes of course you can tell she’s a user by her sunkeneyes and weight loss, but she’s always showered and washed herhair and clothes and kept herself more than presentable and shehas never stolen money or possessions from us, her familyI think it was in 1999 when she eventually broke down at homeone day and begged us to help her and get her into a rehabilitationcentre. I don’t know if any of you have been in the unenviableposition of trying to get rehab help for some one you love but itsalmost impossible. You obviously need to do it when they want todo it, but this is almost impossible, the waiting list is too long.After a lot of prayer and enquiries we were eventually put intocontact with Teen Challenge- a Christian run centre for drug users.They were willing to take Charlotte, so off we went on a 12 hourround trip to Wales and back so Charlotte could begin her yearlong programme of rehabilitation. I must admit it was one of theworst moments of my life when we had to say goodbye. The placeitself is beautiful with tranquil gardens and surrounded by lovelycountryside, but I felt absolutely dreadful as though I was desertingher and couldn’t help sobbing as we hugged her goodbye, the Staffassured us she would be well looked after so we left to come home.We (her family), and friends prayed Charlotte would come throughthis physically painful experience as from the moment she enteredTeen Challenge she wasn’t allowed any medication to help here withthe terrible withdrawal symptoms. Also in the early days we weren’tallowed to speak directly to her, but were allowed to speak to astaff member to find out her progress. Of course, we did thisevery day. After she had been there a few days we were distraughtto receive a call from a staff member asking us to come the nextday and bring her home. Charlotte just couldn’t cope with theterrible symptoms and wanted to return home. Bernard, my husband,was out for the evening and it would be very late when hereturned home. I was told to go the next day and collect her. Ifelt physically sick and was crying and very upset then angry and,yes, I will admit for a brief moment was mad with God, whywasn’t he helping Charlotte more. But where God is at work sois the devil, and as I sat crying alone I realised I wasn’t aloneGod was with me as he always had been throughout everythingwe had endured. I thought to myself ‘you can either sit herecrying feeling sorry for yourself and for Charlotte or you cando something about it’ I decided to do something about it. Thiswas one battle the devil was not going to win. We just wouldn’tlet him. So I telephoned family and friends all over the countryand some abroad to ask them to pray for Charlotte to ask Godto help her through the next painful hours and to give her thestrength she needed to fight the symptoms. I was on thetelephone all evening and friends and family in turn rangothers to ask for their prayers, and so it went on all evening.We went on prayer web sites and left details of Charlotteasking for people to join us in prayer. When Bernard camehome I explained the situation to him and we just knelttogether and gave Charlotte and her problems to God, thenI went up to bed absolutely exhausted. The devil must havebeen furious because when Bernard phoned Teen Challengethe next morning to get details they said ‘No need to come’,Charlotte was through it. They had never seen such a rapidtransformation, the night before she had been screamingout with pain then the next morning had come skipping downthe stairs with a big smile singing ‘ My shackles are gone’!!We could only praise and thank God for this. After a fewmonths Charlotte was even baptised !!!!!- But the devilwasn’t finished with her yet……Charlotte was a thorn inthe side to some of the staff there as she misbehavedand disrupted Bible classes and studies etc. and aftereight months one of the staff members rang us to askus to go and take her home, as they couldn’t cope withher any more. As you can imagine, I felt bitter and angry,she was being sent home to the very place where her drugproblems were.She’d been eight months without drugs and her skin and hairwere in good condition and she had put on weight. Moreimportantly, she had a good relationship with God. But oncehome, little by little we could see the changes that go handin hand with drugs and Charlotte was once again back usingdrugs. After a while she decided she would like to go back toTeen Challenge if they would have her and give it another go.But sadly she only stayed five days before walking out.After about a year another Christian drug rehabilitationorganisation (Betel) came to give talks at the church Charlotteattended and she decided to go to Birmingham, their base andgive it a go. Again after about five days she walked out.Since then, she’s tried several times to come off drugs herselfwith the help of methadone, but as yet is unsuccessful. I wouldhave liked to say there is a happy ending to “Charlotte’s story”but as yet there isn’t.Our faith has been tried and tested so many times over theyears but has never faltered. Many times we have asked ourselves“where have we gone wrong?” Indeed someone from our churchsaid this to me. It was like a knife going through my very heartbut my faith throughout all this has grown and grown, so that’sa positive. The devil must be so angry with that. We truly believeCharlotte is safe and secure in God’s hands. A lovely aunt of mineonce said “Charlotte is doing an apprenticeship for God – he musthave great work ahead for her to do for him” – and we believethis is true.In the low times some words of a chorus have helped time andtime again

You don’t have to take it on your ownYou don’t have to take it all aloneCome unto me for I understandI know how you feel, I offer my hand

And through all this we have felt God’s love for us. We havegiven Charlotte to him and He has held our hands, and althoughthere’s not a happy ending to Charlotte’s story yet we stronglybelieve that one day we will be writing a PS to the story asCharlotte will be cured of her drug addition.We thank and praise him for what he has done and continuesto do for both Charlotte and for us, her parents, and wouldlike to thank people for their prayerful support.

UPDATE!

HERE IS THE PS WE”VE ALL BEEN PRAYNG AND WAITING FOR!!

THIS IS CHARLOTTE TODAY, A VIBRANT BEAUTIFUL CHRISTIAN WHO LOVES THE LORD WITH ALL HER HEART. SHE HAS JUST MARRIED AND ATTENDS HER LOCAL CHURCH.THE POWER OF GOD IS TRULY AMAZING.

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This one's for the team!

By Jim Black.

Aubrey drew the short straw! She was bright, bubbly and vivacious and she signed my whiteboard when she came on duty for the 3pm – 11pm shift. She said that because there would be no certified nurse assistant (CAN) on that shift, she would be my primary care provider for the next few hours. She was so wrong!It was Saturday afternoon. Notre Dame was playing Boston College at football on television, only because there was nothing more substantial which took my interest. Lunch was unspectacular, which is probably a compliment for hospital food, but those folks have a myriad of rules and regulations governing what they are allowed to place before patients. The day outside my window was seriously pretty in the way that only an early fall day can be. Bright sunshine, mild temperatures, no wind and not a cloud in the sky.One of the first things Aubrey did after signing my board, was to check my “vitals” - pulse, temperature, blood pressure, oxygen content of my blood - and then make sure I was pain free. After she administered a double-dose of morphine into my IV drip that was duly checked off the list. Wouldn't have to worry about pain for another three hours or so! She checked my incisions – not much to look at there! One of the marvels of modern laprascopic surgery is that a surgeon can remove your gall bladder through your navel without making any big cuts and without spilling a drop of blood. Five tiny holes in my abdomen was all it took to accomplish that feat, all disgustingly routine and normal.My teenage sweetheart and wife of nearly forty years dropped in to make my afternoon complete. And it would have been, except for one little cloud on the horizon. One niggle of pain when I should have been pain-free.It wasn't completely unanticipated, or even unexpected – the surgeon had carefully explained that in order to make room to get the gall bladder out through the navel they had to make a little space. They did this in a most ingenious way. Much like blowing up a balloon, a quick shot of carbon dioxide gas through the navel made my abdomen resemble a blown-up basketball, with plenty of room for him to maneuver. They didn't leave it that way, but there was always a little gas left over that moved around until it got absorbed and all went back to normal. Sometimes, but not always, that moving gas could give a little “discomfort”. The pain medications would take care of it. Except that it didn't!The little cloud on the horizon had matured into a raging thunderstorm! I was really hurting! We summoned Aubrey. She nodded wisely and said the pain medications should take care of it, but she'd check with my doctor. My blood pressure skyrocketed! Maybe if I got up and walked around a little, that might help. I walked, it didn't help. Sweat was dripping off me! The thunderstorm had turned into a tornado! My blood pressure rose some more! I was starting to hurt in places I didn't know I could hurt!I have a fairly high pain threshold and am quite good at “compartmentalizing” issues to deal with. I stood against the wall, the pain got worse. I hunkered down on the floor, the pain got worse! My compartments all collapsed, the pain was the only thing in my whole existence at that moment. Tears welled up, unbidden, in my eyes!Many years ago I had the unpleasant experience of kidney stones and I thought that was the most intense pain I had ever had to endure, but that paled into insignificance compared to the agony of my whole body during this episode! There was one compartment of my mind left for prayer, and I cranked it up! “Lord, I know you'll take care of this, but please could you move your timetable up a little? Please? Please?”The answer was swift and definitely not what I expected!For many years I have been forthright in telling folks, “I know that God loves you, but I'm His favorite!” It sounds cute, but you don't have to look very far to observe why I believe this. I lead a most blessed life in every sense. Everything always works together for my good in the long-term. I know it's not because of any inherent goodness in me, so it must be God's favoritism at work. I don't understand it, but I'm going along for the ride!The unexpected answer I clearly heard in that roaring furnace of pain was that God was NOT going to answer MY plea at that moment, he was going to answer YOUR's! That's right, relief was going to come very shortly because YOU were praying for me! This one was a reward for my TEAM! All those Christian friends who had put me on their prayer list (as well as sent cards, made telephone calls, checked on Facebook) and had asked for healing for me – God wanted me to know that He was answering their prayers because of how much He loves them too. You couldn't knock me over with a feather because I was already so far knocked over, but let's just say that such a thought had never penetrated my experience before!Aubrey came back and she and Marion retrieved me from my fetal position in the corner and got me back on to the bed. My doctor had OK'ed another non-morphine drug and she injected it. Within seconds the turmoil abated, and peace, tranquility, warmth, and sanity flowed over and in my body. My blood pressure returned to normal levels. The clouds dissipated, the sun shone and like the apostle Paul I thanked my God for every remembrance of you!There is an interesting twist to this story. I am privileged to contribute some technical expertise to the online ministry of Dr. Malcolm Westwood (http://www.veilministries.org). He had been emailing me with some technical questions, to which I had replied that I'd get back to him as soon as I was released from hospital. He upbraided me for not letting him know sooner so he could pray for me. He ended his email by saying that he had just sent me a “prayer transfusion”. A little detective work deduced from the timestamp on his email that his “transfusion” occurred just as Aubrey walked in with that new pain medication!Many people quote John Donne: “No man is an island, complete unto himself”. This experience has strengthened my faith in church, not the buildings or organization, but that team of believers each looking out for the welfare of others within the household of faith. You can be sure that I will undertake the privilege of praying for others even more seriously now. I have first-hand experience that God sometimes says “This one's for the team!” Thank you to my team of pray-ers! I would be humbled and honored if you would continue to do so. I promise to reciprocate!-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If you would like to send a message to any of those who havecontributed on this page, please feel free to do so by sending via:mw@veilministries.org